


Moonlight

by lavendersblue



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance, despicable me fluffy, have all your cavities filled before you read, otp: wait that's my word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendersblue/pseuds/lavendersblue
Summary: “I never knew you could hold moonlight in your hands ‘til the night I held you.”
Relationships: Chasten Buttigieg/Pete Buttigieg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta, who I would be lost without. x

He hates these nights. The nights where his thoughts ping-pong off the walls of his brain; where even his anxiety medication isn’t enough to slow the overwhelming exhaustion that his mind creates without permission. The moonlight shines in his eyes so he couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to. And God, does he want to.

He turned to look at Pete, fast asleep like he should be. His arm was draped over Chasten’s waist where it hadn’t moved since he fell asleep two hours ago. Chasten turned onto his back trying not to move Pete’s arm, not wanting to wake him. He almost laughed at the sight of Pete’s face mushed adorably against the pillow, his warm breaths fanning out across Chasten’s neck.

Pete continues to amaze him. He would have never thought how busy a person could be without leaving their house. Chasten thought that the long hours involved in writing his own memoir were exhausting enough, but it was nothing when he thought about what Pete’s schedule has been like over the past four and a half months. Not only has Pete written another beautiful book, but his work with the PAC, surrogating for Biden, and preparing for his semester at the university had all kept him almost as busy as he was on the campaign trail. Except now they had the benefit of having at least two meals a day together--in their own house, of all things. And yet, throughout it all, he still continues to be a wonderful husband. 

The love letters are back, which Chasten commonly finds in between the pages of his notebook left in the attic, written before Pete starts his day and hidden there for Chasten to find when he starts his. Each note seems more beautiful than the last, judging by the way his heart stutters just thinking about them. A hot cup of coffee was always on his nightstand to greet him in the morning (but at a respectful distance away so he couldn’t bump his hand into it when he reached for his phone. Clever man, his Peter.). The dogs were already fed and let out so it was one less thing for Chasten to do when he got up. And of course, Pete knows when to log off at night so that they can have nearly every evening just for themselves. Chasten will never understand how he got so lucky, but by God he’ll spend the rest of their life trying to.

He lifts a single finger to tenderly brush over Pete’s cheek, the outline of his features barely made out by the reflection from the moon against the bay window. He’s so beautiful like this, at peace in this bed for a few hours with no obligations other than to be a comforting presence to Chasten. A murmured question from his husband jars him from his thoughts, not realizing that Pete had opened his eyes to sleepily squint at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re still awake,” Pete says matter-of-factly, contradicting Chasten’s previous reply.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“Love,” Pete murmurs gently, but with more intent, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He knows him too well. Chasten’s heart lurches at the thought. The thoughts quietly come tumbling out of him, the walls broken down once more.

“Sometimes when I can’t sleep and I can’t get my mind to turn off, I’ll think about those nights in my car, staring up at the stars, wondering if all of this is even worth it. If my family will ever accept me again, if I’ll ever be able to sleep in my bed again, or see the dog again, or look my brother in the eye without him turning away in repulsion. Thinking about why life has to be so hard for some people. How unfair it all is that we get cast out simply because our love looks a little different, but it’s still the same as anyone else’s. How unfair it is that we get told we’re disgusting and unworthy of any of the pleasures that life has to offer, and then wondering if I’ll even see those pleasures that I’ve dreamed about for years.

“But then your arm will tighten just the slightest bit around my waist, or you’ll breathe a particularly deep sigh and I’ll feel the warmth caress the back of my neck, and the thoughts stop. And I turn my neck to look back at you, pulling me closer to your chest even when you’re fast asleep, completely unconscious to how happy that makes me.”

His voice broke on the last word. Pete stroked his stomach where his hand was still resting through the cotton shirt, giving him time to gather his thoughts. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and continued.

“And those dark thoughts turn to ones of triumph and love and how happy I am now. How I thought none of what I have now would even be a speck of a possibility to 18-year-old Chasten. My mom called me home and I now have my parents back. I’ve dedicated my life to advocating for arts education and teachers. I have a warm, king-sized bed in a gorgeous house with two crazy dogs and a husband—a _husband—_ who loves me endlessly and whom I love more than anything I’ll ever be able to express. There are people out there who rely on us for happiness and sanity and whose lives we have _saved._ I made it; _we_ made it... and we’re still here.”

Pete’s eyes were glistening more than they usually do in the moonlight. Chasten swallowed the lump in his throat again and took a deep breath, exhaling a life’s worth of anxieties. Pete brought his hand out from under the covers, brushing the backs of his fingers against the softness of Chasten’s cheek. Chasten closed his eyes and melted into the feeling before fixing them again on Pete’s.

“I am in love with you,” Pete whispered across the shared pillow.

The lump was back. For an instant, Chasten’s mind brought him back to their honeymoon, laying in bed with the covers as their only source of modesty. He could almost hear the waves lapping at the shore outside their open window. That feeling of utter elation and incredulousness that he felt then, staring into his new husband’s eyes reflecting in the moonlight, was the same feeling he felt now, doing the same thing. Chasten breathed a small laugh--of disbelief or admiration, he couldn’t tell--and closed his eyes once more, pressing his forehead to Pete’s.

“I am so proud of you,” Pete continued. “I am amazed at your fortitude back then, and now. I can only hope to work every day to be the man you deserve. Because you deserve the world, my love. Even if it doesn’t deserve you.”

Chasten opened his eyes to see that Pete’s had closed. He moved his head back a few centimeters. The moonlight had shifted so that it now highlighted Pete’s cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Chasten thought he looked like an angel.

Out of the hundreds of thoughts from the past few minutes, Chasten whispered the only one currently consuming his mind:

“Kiss me.”

Pete captured his lips in a long, tender kiss. It was chaste, given the context, but also would have made Chasten’s knees weak had he been standing. His heart fluttered, just as it had laying in bed on their honeymoon, just as it does every day living next to his husband. Pete pulled back a bit before giving him a final, closed-mouth kiss to the corner of Chasten’s mouth, as gentle as the first.

His mind finally calm, Chasten turned back around so his back was pressed to Pete’s front once again. As Pete draped his arm over Chasten’s side, they found each other’s hands, Pete’s interlocking over the tops of Chasten’s. Chasten pulled their entwined hands up to his own chest, pressing a kiss to a random knuckle before they settled into the pillows for the final time tonight. The moonlight now dusted over their fingers at Chasten’s chest.

On the brink of sleep, not even sure if it would carry, but because he never went to sleep without saying it, Chasten let out a soft, “I love you, too.” He felt Peter’s soft lips press once, twice to his hairline at his neck. Then the warm caress of a contented sigh. 

As the moon shifted further down their bodies and the stars rotated, their fingers stayed entangled throughout the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. x
> 
> The summary quote is a lyric from "Moonlight" by Ariana Grande.


End file.
